


of viruses, coffee and demons

by pagorek



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Coronavirus, Crack, Demons, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pandemics, Slow Burn, demon!San, no beta we die like men, uni student!Wooyoung
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:47:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23250457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pagorek/pseuds/pagorek
Summary: Wooyoung had always thought that his apartment might be kind of haunted. His suspicions are confirmed when he's staying home due to the Covid-19 outbreak and the demon living in his flat gets concerned.
Relationships: Choi San/Jung Wooyoung
Comments: 20
Kudos: 187





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wooyoungies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wooyoungies/gifts).



Wooyoung wakes up to his phone blowing off his ear at the ungodly hour of 9:31. He never sets his alarms for even hours because reasons.

Groaning, he stretches and slowly gets out of bed in his pajamas. Pajamas being underwear and a thin, worn-out t-shirt of some band his older brother used to listen to in high school. Wooyoung is a man of comfort. Especially within the confines of his apartment walls, where no one can judge him. At least not openly.

He makes his way to the bathroom, thinking of his to-do list for the day. He has an online class starting at 9:45, which leaves him with about ten minutes to get ready to sit through his first, and luckily last, lecture of the day. Philology studies are less demanding than one could think.

He’s brushing his teeth and contemplating whether to go grocery shopping today or not. Would there be any soy milk at the market down the street? Should he ride a bus to the bigger grocery store he usually went to? He shouldn’t be taking the bus though, coronavirus and all. Lost in thought, he lowers his head to rinse his mouth, completely unsuspecting of what’s awaiting him once he straightens back up.

And maybe Wooyoung does scream and drop his toothbrush in the sink, but that’s more out of surprise than fear. You see, he always kind of thought that his apartment might be haunted, and the bloody “YOU USUALLY LEAVE AT 7:45” on his mirror is definitely less concerning than it should be.

So there Wooyoung stands, in front of his bathroom sink, a bird’s nest on his head and toothpaste dripping down his chin while he stares at the uneven writing. Mind blank, clock ticking. He does the only semi-rational thing he can think of.

He responds.

“Well, I know that,” he states quietly, letting his eyes wander and not really knowing where to look. “But with the classes cancelled and the virus going on... I don’t really have a reason to go out.”   
  


Nothing happens. Thirty seconds pass by, not that Wooyoung’s counting, the blood on the mirror slowly trickling down. His hands are slightly shaking. Is he nervous? It probably makes sense if he is. 

He takes a tentative step forward and picks up his discarded toothbrush to clean it up and wash the remnants of the toothpaste off his face. Somehow it doesn’t feel real. But since the quarantine started nothing really feels real to him anymore.

He keeps on peeking at the mirror. The blood doesn’t magically disappear. It’s a shame, really, because he’s not exactly keen on the idea of having to wash it off himself. He’ll do it later. Hopefully he’s not late to his lecture.

Legs stiff, he walks out of the bathroom deciding to ignore it for a while. Maybe it will disappear. Or maybe it didn’t really happen. He’ll have to wait and see. Grabbing his laptop from the bedroom, he walks into the kitchen and sits himself at the counter. 9:42. He can make it. 

The lecture passes by in a blur. He unmutes his microphone once when his name gets called during the attendance check only to keep it muted for the rest of the lecture. After the Mirror Incident he’s not exactly in the right state to focus on linguistics. 

Should he drink coffee? He’s out of milk. Caffeine is bad for him. And he’s not really sleepy anymore. But he wants to drink coffee. Drinking coffee makes him feel grounded, it’s the standard adult activity that he likes to indulge himself in just to feel better about things.

Wooyoung sits there at the counter, mind wandering on and about as the voice of his lecturer gently fills the silence of his apartment. Wooyoung lives alone, because his parents didn’t want him to share his living space with strangers and were well off enough to rent him a place of his own. He doesn’t really mind, because he’s out most of the time and when he gets back he actually appreciates the quiet. It helps him clear his mind a lot. Now though, with the quarantine thing going on, he is, in fact, starting to feel a bit lonely, online classes not really giving him the comfort of being around other people.

An hour and a half later, as his lecturer bids his goodbyes and ends the call, Wooyoung notices a small cup of coffee standing near his laptop. Weird. He doesn’t recall making it. He must have been  _ really _ out of it. It’s often like that these days. He reaches for the mug and once he grabs it, he feels a weird sensation of guilt coursing through him. Why would he feel guilty about coffee?  _ That’s so weird _ , he thinks to himself as he shakes his head to get rid of the feeling.

He takes a few small sips so as not to burn himself. He furrows his brows. Black coffee. No milk, no sugar, no nothing. Why did he make himself a coffee without milk? He ran out of it, right. But no sugar?  _ Really fucking weird.  _ He should get a hold on himself one of these days.

Once Wooyoung finishes his coffee, he sets the empty cup in the sink and grabs his laptop to put it back in his room. And as he’s passing by the bathroom door, he stops dead in his tracks as he’s hit with probably the scariest realization of his life. He feels his entire body slowly go stiff, cold sweat gathering on top of his spine, mind both blank and racing with thoughts at the same time. 

After a long pause, he carefully takes a few small steps back and turns around to face the  _ empty _ kitchen and hesitantly utters the words in a slightly quivering voice.

“Thank you f-for the coffee.”

  
  
Wooyoung ended up not going to the store that day. Nor the day after. 

The bloody writing on the mirror did disappear by itself after all, but by that time Wooyoung was already convinced that he’s not exactly alone. And so, later that week, on a sunny Saturday afternoon, he decides to make a phone call.

“The fuck do you want from me at this hour,” is all Yeosang groggily greets him with. Not that Wooyoung is surprised, Yeosang’s always been kinda snippy. Wooyoung thinks that’s just his way of showing affection.

“Hello, Yeosangie. I need your help.”

The line goes quiet for a few seconds. Then there’s some shuffling, probably Yeosang sitting up in his bed, Wooyoung assumes.

“Must be something serious if you’re being so straightforward about it”, he says, sounding way more awake than he was just a moment ago.

Wooyoung fumbles with his fingers for a moment, looking down at the phone laying in his lap. He only ever calls people on speaker. He doesn’t know why.

“You’re… you’re kinda… ugh”, is all Wooyoung manages to get out at first, pointedly ignoring Yeosang’s offended  _ “I’m kinda ugh?”  _ thrown back at him. “Do you know anything about ghosts?”

Wooyoung literally hears Yeosang raise his eyebrow at the question. “Do I know anything about ghosts”, he deadpans. Wooyoung answers with a hum. “Do I… Wooyoung, Jesus Christ, I’m into  _ astrology _ , not fucking  _ ghosts _ .”

“I never said you’re into fucking ghosts, I just asked if you know anything about them”, Wooyoung says with a small, playful smile on his face. 

Yeosang sighs. “I’ll ignore that for both your own good and my sanity. So, ghosts. Mind giving me some insight into why exactly you’re suddenly interested in the topic?”

And so, Wooyoung tells him.    
  
As Yeosang is making himself breakfast, he learns not only about the bloody mirror, but also about all the other things. About that time when Wooyoung was in a hurry to go to class but couldn’t find his wallet. He gave up on searching only to have it magically appear in his jeans pocket just as he was leaving through the door. About that time he dropped a glass and somehow it miraculously stopped mid air instead of shattering all over the floor. About all the plants that should have died long ago because he never remembers to water them. About all the coffees he didn’t remember making. About all the weird feelings he’s had. Wooyoung had a lot to say.

“So,” Yeosang starts while munching on his toast. “What you’re saying is that you’ve been living with some invisible creature, potentially a ghost, for over a year and started worrying only after it smeared blood all over your bathroom mirror.”

“It’s not like I  _ knew _ , it were all just suspicions” Wooyoung defends.

“Right,” Yeosang snorts. “Because levitating kitchenware obviously can be logically explained.”

Wooyoung takes a moment to think about it while Yeosang eats. Was he really this oblivious? Or was he just ignoring it all, like Yeosang said? Considering his overall calm reaction to everything... maybe he did know all along.

His train of thought suddenly gets interrupted by Yeosang speaking up again. “By the way, blood writing on the mirror doesn’t exactly sound like a ghost thing to me. Not that I’m any specialist, which you seem to be taking me for.”  _ Sarcastic as always _ , Wooyoung thinks. “But if I were to guess I’d say it might be… a demon?”, he ends hesitantly.

“Are demons real?”, Wooyoung asks a bit suspiciously.

“ _ Are ghosts real? _ ”, parrots him Yeosang. And maybe he has a point.

“Okay, sorry. That didn’t make sense,” he admits a bit sheepishly. “But then why would a demon ask me… well, why would  _ anything _ for that matter ask me about me not leaving the house?”, Wooyoung questions.

Yeosang just hums, clatter of plates being washed audible in the background. “That I would like to know, too. It seems like whatever or whoever it is though, its’ intentions aren’t to harm you. You said you felt guilt after you got that coffee? Maybe it was an apology.”

“Apology for… the bloody mirror?” Wooyoung finally feels like he’s catching up with everything Yeosang says.   
  
“Yeah. Think about it,” Yeosang says and Wooyoung hears him turn off the tap, signaling he’s done with the dishes. “I guess that’s all we can do for now. Try to talk to it some more.”

“Yeah, okay, I can do that,” Wooyoung assures, though it’s probably more for himself than Yeosang. “But what should I even talk about?”

Yeosang laughs at him. “I don’t know, coffee?” he says and ends the call without giving Wooyoung time to respond.  _ Bitchass. _

“Sooo…”, Wooyoung tries. “Do you like coffee?”

It comes out awkward and he feels like an idiot. Spending his evening sitting on the kitchen floor and trying to small talk a ghost-demon-godknowswhat. One week into self-quarantine and he’s already gone crazy. 

Just as he’s about to get up and hide in his room out of embarrassment, a pack of coffee beans falls down from the shelf and into his lap. Wooyoung’s absolutely dumbstruck.

He spends a solid minute just staring at the funny looking quetzal bird on the packaging. Guatemala Antigua. Medium roast with notes of cocoa. A demon with a sweet tooth? Wooyoung is suddenly grateful for his broad knowledge of Starbucks’ coffees.

“Is this your favourite one?”, he tries again. He’s making some progress and he’s not about to let his efforts go to waste. “I like it, too. I’d make… I’d make you a cup, but it’s late and I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Nothing more happens. The entire exchange wasn’t much, could have as well been a coincidence, but Wooyoung is past the stage of thinking like that. He’s actually kind of happy with the progress. The air around him feels warmer. It’s nice.

Wooyoung spends the next day studying. Despite being confident in himself and his knowledge, he still likes to be prepared for his classes and maybe get a bit ahead of the material sometimes to give himself some peace of mind.

In the evening, however, he slightly changes the subject of his studies. Opening up an incognito tab, he ponders what to type in to start himself on the whole supernatural thing. The more he thinks about it, the more Yeosang’s demon theory makes sense, so that’s where he wants to start.

Three blogs and twenty wikipedia pages later, Wooyoung learns about ouija boards.

He’s already scrolling through various  _ interesting _ online stores to see where he can get one. In the middle of trying to stop himself from impulsively purchasing a Frida Kahlo tarot deck, he notices a small announcement at the bottom of the page. 

“ _ Due to the situation with Covid-19 spreading worldwide, multiple airlines are restricted and factories are closed as a precaution measure. Because of that, the orders will be delayed by about 2 to 4 weeks. We are very sorry about the inconv _ \- oh, fuck this”, Wooyoung mutters under his breath as he closes out of the tab.

Leaning back in his chair, Wooyoung thinks. He really wants to communicate with the  _ possibly demon _ being in his flat, and he’d rather do it sooner than later. He’s not sure why the rush, but he also thinks that he’s waited enough.

When his eyes accidentally land on the stack of papers and notebooks in the corner of his desk, Wooyoung has another dumb yet wonderful idea.

Twenty minutes later, there’s a self-made ouija board in front of him. Well, more of an A4 ouija paper, but it’s the thought that counts. Right? Wooyoung really hopes so. He even drew the smiling sun and moon in the top corners. They might look like shit, but he  _ really _ tried his best.

Wooyoung looks at his phone. 10:42 PM. Would it be too late to talk to a demon? When do demons sleep-  _ do demons even sleep?  _ Groaning, he turns off his laptop and decides to save it for the next day. His deep fried brain deserves a break.

In the morning, he goes grocery shopping to stock up on the necessities. He’s careful and all, taking a hand sanitizer with him and wearing a face mask. Wooyoung might be stupid, but he’s not an idiot.

He gets back home relatively fast, three heavy bags filled with food in his arms. He drops the keys and bumps his knee into the door while fumbling with the lock. Cursing under his breath, he finally manages to open the door and ungracefully stumbles inside.

“I’m back!”, he shouts to- well, no one in particular. Kind of. Wooyoung gets embarrassed and drops the bags onto the counter to quickly run to the bathroom to change his clothes and wash his hands. Hygiene first.

Once he exits, he finds the grocery bags empty and folded neatly on the counter. Cautiously, he comes closer and inspects his kitchen. No burglars in sight, which is good. Taking a look into the fridge and a few drawers Wooyoung realizes that however idiotic it sounds, the demon must have put it all away for him. Not for the first time in the past few days, he finds himself speechless.

“Hey, did you… well, you must have. Thank you,” he says as he remembers his impromptu ouija board from yesterday. “I have something to show you, do you, um, do you mind waiting here a second?”

Waiting a moment for no actual reason, Wooyoung then goes to his room and brings back his occult masterpiece. 

“It’s, uhh… I did it yesterday because I thought that maybe this way it would be easier to talk, you know?”, he rambles as he takes a water bottle from one of the cabinets and sits down at the little couch standing in the corner of his living room. He unscrews the bottle, takes a small sip and carefully sets it aside, keeping the cap in his hand. He then places the ouija board on the small coffee table in front of him and puts the bottle cap on top of it, at the blank space between “YES” and “NO”.

“I don’t know if you know how this works, but, well, as you can probably see there’s the alphabet, numbers… I’m going to ask you some questions and you could move the cap to give me your answer, either with my help, or, I guess you don’t really need it- anyways. Is that okay with you?”, Wooyoung explains nervously. The air around him is different, as if charged with something, and it feels almost excited. He takes it as a good sign.

“Okay. Here comes my first question...” Wooyoung’s mind is white noise. He doesn’t have a first question. Hell, he doesn’t have any questions. He tries not to panic. What should he ask? “ _ What are you _ ” would be way too mean, but he also doesn’t have many ideas where else to start. He thinks of what Yeosang said and takes a deep breath.

“Are you… I’m sorry if that’s rude or something, I don’t really know the inhuman beings etiquette.” Wooyoung winces at how that came out but braces himself and continues. “Are you a demon?”

The strange aura around him feels even stronger than before, as if someone got closer. Wooyoung feels chills go down his spine. He hopes he didn’t anger the being.

He takes a look at the board before him and almost falls off of the couch. The cap lies perfectly still on top of the bold “YES”.

“Oh”, Wooyoung says weakly. “Oh. So you’re a demon.”

With that being established, Wooyoung feels both more confident and more scared than before. It’s a very complicated combination of feelings. His head is starting to hurt. The aura around him, however, feels relaxed, entertained even. It’s going smoother than he expected.

“Alright, demon. Sorry. I don’t know your name.” A literal bulb goes off in his brain, but the demon is faster than him this time. The cap moves through the board, slowly, as if the demon was trying to not scare Wooyoung too much. He very much appreciates the thought.

The cap stops at “S”. First letter. It starts moving again and this time stops at “A”. Wooyoung’s heart is beating rapidly in his chest for unknown reasons. The cap moves to “N” and stays there. Wooyoung gives himself a moment to process. “SAN”, is what the demon said. 

San. His name is San.

“Your name is San?” Wooyoung asks, just to be sure. He’s certain he can somehow either hear or feel someone chuckle, although it doesn’t really make sense. He really must be going crazy.

The cap moves to “YES”. Alright. Okay. So it’s a demon, and his name is San. Somehow that’s already too much for Wooyoung.

He gets up from the couch. “Okay, San.” The name sits heavy on his tongue. “Thank you for talking to me. I have to attend an online class in a bit now, but I’m really grateful for... this.”

He makes a beeline towards his bedroom and closes the door behind him. He carefully sits on his bed, hand pressed against his chest, feeling his heart thud heavily in his chest. He’s nervous, but he doesn’t even know why. He’s also excited, he feels almost faint.

Despite his inner turmoil, Wooyoung finds himself smiling.

His name is  _ San. _


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello, a few announcements before you go on:
> 
> 1\. i've decided that this story will be three chapters long. sorry  
> 2\. this chapter is a lil bit shorter than the previous one. once again, sorry  
> 3\. disclaimer: as i am an atheist/agnostic, i definitely do not believe that if hell exists one can get there by having sex, no matter with whom or how often. i know this doesn't make sense to you right now but you'll understand. (nothing hardcore just stating the obvious)
> 
> with that being said, enjoy!

On Saturday, right after he wakes up, Wooyoung finds himself standing under the shower, little droplets of water slowly trailing down his body while he thinks.

He thinks about everything that’s been happening these past two weeks. He thinks about the pandemics, about coffee, about demons and mirrors. About the two assignments he needs to write due sometime next week, about the conversation he had with San yesterday about his plants, about whether to update Yeosang on his situation.

He sighs and opens his eyes to reach for the shampoo bottle standing somewhere on the shower floor. While he’s rubbing it into his hair and scalp, Wooyoung looks at the mirror, thinking back to the bloody writing incident that started everything. 

As he lets the water clean the shampoo out of his hair, Wooyoung realizes that he did neither see, hear or feel San that last time in the bathroom. He never really sees San, can only sometimes feel his presence lingering in the air. Does that mean that he could be in the same room as the demon without being aware of it?

It was like that, then, he thinks. And it was in the bathroom, too. 

Wooyoung is suddenly very aware of his naked body.

He reaches for a sponge and washes himself up as quickly as it is possible with it still being thorough. While he’s very insecure about being seen, he’d hate to walk out of the shower feeling dirty. 

Once he’s clean, dry and dressed up (in another oversized t-shirt, only this time with a pair of shorts on, because ever since he started being more aware of San he felt the need to cover himself up a bit more), he walks out of the bathroom to take a seat in his favourite spot in the kitchen. 

While he’s setting up his laptop and organizing the papers he’s going to need for the next few hours, a thought strikes him.

“Hey, San?” Wooyoung now tends to call out to the demon first before he starts talking to him. After one incident when he tried telling San a story and was interrupted halfway through with a flaming “SORRY, I JUST GOT HOME. WHAT WERE YOU TALKING ABOUT?”, he likes to check if the demon is even present. As it turned out, San is out a lot more than Wooyoung thought. Doing what, Wooyoung does not want to know.

A chair on the other side of the counter delicately scratches against the floor in response, signaling that San is here and listening. Wooyoung puts down the pen he was holding and takes a breath.

“Do you have something like… a physical form? Like, a body?”, he asks, albeit rather cautiously, because while Wooyoung might have gotten used to San’s presence, he’s still a bit wary about potentially offending him.

“I do!”, San answers him cheerfully and Wooyoung promptly loses his so-called shit.

Body completely frozen, Wooyoung lets his eyes very, very slowly trail upwards. 

The moment he catches sight of San, Wooyoung decides he’s very thankful he’s sitting down.

The first thing he notices is that San is very well built. Long, thin legs, an absolutely _tiny_ waist but broad, strong looking arms. He’s not overly muscular, yet not lanky either. The demon, surprisingly, seems to be around Wooyoung’s age, and somewhere around his height, too. 

The second thing Wooyoung notices about San is his face. Its’ slim, elegant shape with prominent cheekbones and a jaw that undoubtedly could slice an apple in half. His skin is smooth, maybe a little too pale to look natural for a human. Small, pointy nose, plump lips and dimples that would make him look almost cute if it weren’t for his sharp, piercing eyes, that Wooyoung swears could see right through his soul.

That was until San smiled.

“I can grow horns out of my head too, would you like to see?”, he asks, and Wooyoung is amazed at how gentle San seems to be despite his sharp appearance. Somehow he’s everything Wooyoung both did and did not expect him to be.

Once San’s question registers in his brain, his eyes snap to the demon’s black, slicked back hair. Horns?

Just as he’s about to open his mouth to answer, San speaks up again.

“Now that I think about it though, there’d be a lot of skull cracking and possibly blood and I’ve noticed that it’s not really your kind of thing, so...”, San says while looking at him with a mix of worry and dejection. _Is that a fucking pout?_

They spent that day chatting and getting to know each other. Wooyoung was excited to finally share the empty space with someone. San was excited to show Wooyoung a few, quote, “ _funny tricks he learned back in hell_ ”, which ended in Wooyoung frantically trying to turn off the fire alarm. 

San also told Wooyoung that he never really considered making use of his physical form, but now he thinks it’s convenient because they can talk more comfortably. And sometimes Wooyoung gets flustered looking at him, it’s cute.

He still makes Wooyoung coffee during his lectures, only now he always gets a small ‘thank you’ in return. He made a habit of making a cup for himself as well, just to sit there and watch Wooyoung focus on studying. 

San first saw Wooyoung a few months ago when he was making his way back home from a party. It was late, and Wooyoung was just _so pretty_ (and also pretty wasted) that he got worried about him making it home safely. So naturally, he followed him home.

He was planning on leaving right after Wooyoung locked the door, but being as drunk as Wooyoung was, he forgot to do so. Sighing, San followed him inside. Locked his door. Took off the boy’s shoes for him when he passed out on his bed. Placed a glass of water and an ibuprofen on his bedside table. And waited in his kitchen, just in case. In case of what, San didn’t know himself, but his inner urge to protect this stranger was too overwhelming to ignore it. 

Around noon, a barely coherent Wooyoung emerged from his room. San actually knew his name from the start, because he saw Wooyoung’s wallet slip from his jacket pocket onto the street while he was walking home last night. He might have taken a peek.

As Wooyoung was stumbling around in the kitchen, it soon became obvious to San that the boy was not good at taking care of himself. Or the plants in his flat. He reminded San of a stray kitten: lonely, with no one to take care of him when he clearly can’t do so himself. And so, he sticked around.

And now, a few months later, as San watches Wooyoung focus on the lecture, taking notes and all, sipping on the coffee San made him, it all comes back to him. He thinks of how fond he’s grown to be of Wooyoung and how happy he is to be able to spend time with him now. All thanks to the global pandemics.

After Wooyoung gets used to San, he realizes it’s not just his loneliness making him want to befriend the nearest living creature he can find. San is actually really fun to be around when he’s not setting things on fire: he’s very knowledgeable and has many intriguing opinions on things Wooyoung didn’t even know one could have an opinion about.

When Wooyoung’s not studying they spend a lot of their time talking. It’s as if San could spark a conversation out of nowhere at all times. He also smiles a lot. The amount of positive energy radiating from the demon could put any kindergarten teacher to shame.

Wooyoung finds himself smiling more, too. It’s nice having someone around. Especially San. Having San around is really nice.

“Sooo…”, Wooyoung starts one day about three weeks into self-quarantine. San looks up at him from his crossword, a few stray strands of hair falling onto his forehead. Wooyoung focuses on the bleached white stripe in his hair so intensely he forgets to talk.

After a rather long moment, San raises an eyebrow at his staring. “Do I have something on my face?”, he asks teasingly, one corner of his mouth slowly pulling upwards into a smirk and _oh boy_.

Wooyoung, the absolute disaster of a gay, panics.

“Beauty”, is what he blurts out absolutely accidentally. The moment his brain catches up with his traitorous mouth, his eyes widen comically, looking like a perfect visualization of the deer caught in the headlights idiom.

San is sporting a similar expression, eyes wide, mouth slightly agape. Poor, whipped demon, couldn’t have seen this one coming.

Unsurprisingly though, he gets a grip on himself faster than Wooyoung does.

“Thank you…”, he says, avoiding looking Wooyoung in the eye. How he has the audacity to get shy after looking like anyone’s walking wet dream is way beyond Wooyoung’s comprehension. “You wanted to say something?”

“Oh! Yes, um,” is Wooyoung’s very eloquent answer. Maybe this is not his good day. He gives himself a moment to breathe first. “I wanted to ask something.”

San tilts his head to the side curiously, prompting him to go on.

“What exactly is it that you do?”

He gets a weird look from San in response. “What do you mean ‘what do I do’, I’m a demon, Wooyoung. I thought we’ve already established that during our ouija session.” He sounds genuinely confused.

Wooyoung is not sure how to go about this entire conversation so he slightly changes his route.

“How did you even become a demon, then? You… you’re just so _nice_ , so how come…?”, he trails off.

“I went to hell for being gay”, San deadpans. 

Wooyoung is taken aback. “You- people go to hell for being _gay_?!”, he asks louder than San has ever heard him speak. 

San laughs at his reaction. “No, I’m just kidding. I went to hell for leading a debauched lifestyle and seducing priests. Being gay was just a bonus,” he explains while looking at Wooyoung with an amused expression on his face. “Just thought you might be interested in that particular piece of information.”

Wooyoung’s face heats up slightly, but otherwise he stays unbothered.

“ _Debauched lifestyle?”_ Wooyoung tsks while propping his chin with his hand. “You literally blushed when I said you have ‘beauty on your face’, that doesn’t really sound plausible.”

San rolls his eyes. “I might have done a few other things too, but that’s not the point, okay? I’ve changed.”

Wooyoung hums. “So now you’re all virgin Mary?”

San laughs so hard he almost falls off the chair. A few tears gather in the corner of his eyes and once he catches his breath, he raises his glasses a bit to wipe the tears away with his finger.

“Oh fuck, no. No,” he manages to finally gasp out. “No, I’m…” his eyes trail back to Wooyoung and he blushes a bit. “Not all virgin Mary.”

  
  


Wooyoung lies that night in bed and thinks about gay demons who are not virgin Mary at all.

**Author's Note:**

> hello!! staying home is making me a bit uneasy so i wrote a fic to project onto wooyoung. because if you're not projecting then are you even really writing,,, also it's my first published work ever so any feedback either here or on twitter(/pagoorek) would be very nice:) thank you


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